Frost Bite
by Hint.Of.Grey
Summary: Black eyes snapped to attention as consciousness took him in a snap of a second. Everything was cold, freezing, his drivesuit , as he looked down at himself, was ripped, bloody, and covered in snow. How was he still alive? Allied with a shovel-baring woman, he had to find a way back. Back to his Jaeger and his brother. "It's right under your nose - well feet, technically!" Yancy/oc
1. Chapter 1

Just a test run. If you guys like it, I'll continue * I haven't seen any fics yet and I hated that Yancy died, even though it was a huge character and plot development, so here's my take on it.

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"_Yancy!"_

_Claws tore at their Jaeger relentlessly, finding it's facial plates and digging in greedily. It was on his side. Panic and fear raced through his body, body frozen as he knew there wasn't anything else he could do._

_It was chaos. He wasn't strong enough to hold the Kaiju, his heart was beating too fast, and he couldn't shield his brother from his realization and acceptance. This was it, after all the runs and kills, this was his last fight with Gypsy Danger; with his little brother._

_He was damn proud of them both._

"_No! Yancy!"_

_Just as the claws clenched around his spot within the pod, still connected with his brother, Yancy turned towards Raleigh, unable to physically show him any comfort, but he passed on as much as he could – apologies about the fight over Naomi, not being there when their mother got worse, and the pride that he felt to pilot a Jaeger with his own little brother._

"_YANCY!"_

Black eyes snapped to attention as consciousness took him in a snap of a second. Everything was cold, freezing, his drivesuit , as he looked down at himself, was ripped, bloody, and covered in snow. He was still locked in place with a piece of the con-pod.

With a grunt, he attempted to move his arm, but he couldn't feel anything at all, and with his face plate cracked and frosty, he couldn't see beyond a couple feet. Straining his neck forward he forced movement into his limb, yelling out in agony as it suddenly came to life with fire racing down his veins. Looking down once more, he was horrified to see where the tears were in his drivesuit, his wounds looked black and blue. He would have been relieved if it had been oozing puss and junk, but it was frozen, and that was not a good sign.

Yancy Becket was made of muscle, not fat, and whatever was frozen was attached to that muscle.

Letting his arm fall uselessly next to him, his head fell back, eyes clenched in an effort to deal with the pain and block out what his arm's condition could mean. Panting, he broke out in a sweat, and in freezing temperatures like that around him, wasn't a good sign either. Unable to move, the Ranger gritted his teeth and bore the pain, a lone thought fleeting across his quickly fading conscious.

How was he alive?


	2. Chapter 1 : Thought he was a goner

**The Cat Came Back **_lyrics to not belong to me, neither does anything Pacific Rim related. Thank you so much for your support, the few of you, all the follows and the one favorite and review (Garfield71, the review was much appreciated) made me very much elated. _

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"Good morning, nowhere land!" Mo cheered into the radio dispatch cheerfully, sitting with her legs dangling off the old wooden counter top, staring out the broken window that let all the chilling air in, "it seems we have another boring day ahead of us, no darkness for months to come so we have sunshine, sunshine, and a bit more of sunshine!"

Grinning to herself, she let go of the receiver's dispatch button to hop down, opening cabinet to snatch her box full of lollipops down, looking through them greedily before she plucked a raspberry flavored one out of the bunch, quickly putting the box back. Humming an off tune, she snatched her portable radio and gave it its daily whack to get the battery going. As she started to hear static, she glanced around the small, deteriorating kitchen, sighing when she saw a cockroach scurry by.

Those things never died, did they?

"-_at came back because he couldn't stay away-Th-thought he was a goner_-"

"See, I told yeah you still have it in yeah!" she cooed to the machine as it came to life, clipping it to her multi-layered jeans and pulling her thick wool gloves on. Never too warm to not go the extra mile with the layers of clothes, she thought as she pulled her worn leather jacket over her shirts, checking her boots before heading to the front door.

Grey eyes squinted against the harsh arctic scenery as she turned to yank the door closed, the hinges had rusted a long time ago and wouldn't close properly at times. Nodding that it was shut, she turned to her pride and glory. It's handle smooth and rounded, the end sharp and reading for action, Mo was more than happy to steal her shovel away from its lounging position to skip to her usual site about a mile out.

Maybe she'd try her luck at fishing for a meal tonight.

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"The boat turned over and was never found" Mo sang out with a grunt, pulling the shovel free of the snow to fling its load over her shoulder. She had discarded her cap as her hair was starting to collect sweat, leather jacket now just tied loosely around her shoulders. Huffing, she watched as it made clouds, flexing her fingers that had vaguely started to throb she continued with her song, "And now they drag the river for the little boy who drowned..."

Rolling her shoulders, Mo rammed her shovel into the large hole she had been creating for the past two weeks, others littered in various locations within the mile radius, one day they would create one giant one. Well that was the plan, if the snow would stop coming, she thought as she scowled up at the smiling sky.

The short time she wasn't paying attention though seemed to have it laughing at her, as her grip loosened on the handle of the shovel, pitching her forward into her ice-y ditch.

"Ugh, that's it!" pulling herself up on level ground, rubbing her already numb cheek on the bank on the way up, "I get it!" she screamed to the sky, picking up her shovel to wave it in the air, "I'm taking a break – liquid sounds better than this solid crap anyway!"

Rubbing the frost that had stuck to her face, she fished her compass out of her many layers of shirts and twirled around till the arrow showed south. Nodding, she quickly put her jacket and cap back on, and trudged on, her shovel being drug along behind her.

"-_R-Russia went! England went! And then the U-USA. The entire human race was l-left without a chance to pray..."_

It was about twenty minutes before she made it to the unstable shore, where ice could break and send you plunging into unforgiving cold waters, spying her little shack where she kept her net and a rusty fishing pole.

Raising her hand to rub the back of her neck to release some stress, she surveyed her surroundings, a quick rake over- when she did a double take. The sun struck something oddly, it wasn't like the reflection off of snow, it was flared more and she could see a jagged edge of a foreign object. Her heart picked up, hope rooted deep within her sprouted out – had someone heard her transmission?

"Hey! Hello!" She shouted, pulling her shovel under her arm and started sprinting towards the object, starting to grin. They would help her- oh god, blankets, they would give her nice thick blankets- "over here!"

The closer she got, the more her grin diminished. It wasn't right, why wasn't there movement? It was too small, sure she had been cut off from the world for years but they couldn't have had that much of a scientific breakthrough that quickly, right? Swiping her gloved hand under her nose to clear the snot away from running, she jogged to a stop, her lips slack.

"Shit" she muttered as she finally saw her thought to be 'savior'. A huge piece of metal; jagged, looked to be ripped from a much bigger source, lay half in and half out of the frigged water, probably pushed up by the current. Her heart jumped up her throat when her eyes moved further up, seeing a very human, and nearly half frozen, form loaded up with snow. "shit, shit, shit" she chanted, not knowing what to do. She was expecting them to be the organized ones! Not her – what was she to do? Move him? Try to wake him up for- "oh, no" she cried, tugging her cap down over her eyes.

Breath. Come on Mo, she urged herself. Turning in circles to clear her mind, she came to a conclusion.

"Okay, my friend, be prepared for a ride of your life" she murmured, getting closer before falling to her knees, frantically pushing all the snow she could, becoming more frantic once she started seeing red, and then the man's – she looked towards the cracked and frosted helmet he wore, spying solid cheek bones and a shadow of facial hair on the jaw, yeah, man- now obvious injuries. A torn – shit! A torn drivesuit! He was a Jaeger pilot!

Quickly pushing off the remaining white substance, she fully saw he was still held on by his conn-pod. A new realization pushed adrenaline into her system as she saw the full of him. His chest had long, parallel, wounds that had frozen over. Moving forward in alarm – more so than at the start- she leaned over his raised body to his head piece, scrubbing frost away to see more clearly but found that it was condensed on the inside as well.

"Hello? Wakey wakey!" she called, gently moving the helm back and forth, biting the inside of her cheek when nothing happened. How long had he been this way? "Hey! It's no time to nap, ranger!" wanting to tear her hair out in panic she tried to pry the edges of the cracks towards her, trying to break it away to see his face clearly, she wouldn't dare try to peel away the whole head piece away. With a grunt, she went to get a better grip on the crack's edge and carefully jerked it once more towards her, yelping as it obeyed her forced but nicked the gloved and managed to skim her skin under it.

Hissing she peered into the hole she made, seeing a closed eye lid and dark blond hair, definitely not moving.

"Jaeger, Jaeger!" she called, tapping the side of his helm, getting no response, "testing one-" she knocked her knuckles against the metal "-two-" she slapped the top of the helm, nothing. Thinning out her lips in panic, she did what her dad always responded to-

Mo screamed bloody murder right in the man's face and got a real good view when black eyes snapped open, body jerking under her bent form. Mo twitched in surprise, her grey eyes nearly bulging as he stared at her, very much alive, and whispered hoarsely, "three?"

His eyes rolled back into his head and he sagged once more into unconsciousness.

She was frozen before her breath came out in a rush and her body leaped into action. Wiping her gloves on her jeans she grasped the edge of the torn conn-pod and tugged as much of it away from the water as possible, until her boots weren't finding any leverage. "Right, okay" she pepped herself, clapping her hands together to keep focused before pointing at the still man, "stay put" she told him wearily before propping up her shovel next to him, handle down so she could spot the wreckage more easily from a distance. Turning she ran to her little shack to fetch the casting net.

"_Yes, the cat came back because he couldn't stay away"_


	3. Chapter 2 : Caged

"_Hey Kid" Blue eyes flickered to him, a grin tugging at his face, "Don't get cocky"_

Light flickered from behind his eye lids, waking him from the seemingly endless sleep he had been in. It was disorientating even without sight, confused of where his left foot was in relation to the location of his right hand. Blinking seemed difficult, his lids heavy – suddenly he realized everything seemed so _heavy_ _and hot_.

He was burning.

His arms wouldn't move, it was straining to even bend his knuckles. There was pressure in his ears, making him note that he couldn't hear anything, it was a chilling silence that had him opening up his mouth – only to let dry air into an equally dry throat, resulting in the worst coughing fit he'd ever gone through. It hurt to move, his constricting throat hell, moving his jaw seemed like someone was prying his jaw apart with a jack.

Where was he? Raleigh? Was Raleigh here with him? In a hospital? The Base infirmary? Why wasn't anyone doing anything to make the damn pain stop? He couldn't stop coughing, the light behind his eyelids seemed to dot out of existence – he didn't want to go back to sleep, he had to get up, had to see if Raleigh was okay, had to-

Blessedly cold hands on his temple had his coughing turn in wheezing at the surprise that jolted through his system. He forced his eyelids open, despite it feeling like he was tearing flesh, and nearly puked at the blinding light around him. Everything seemed to be spinning, white – all he could see was white.

"-r m-ey!..sta-..Jae-ger! Jae-r!.." Sound leaked through to his ear drums, dim, faint, but it was a welcome relief to the bleakness he had woken up to. He saw a flash of brown in the white before the whiteness blurred it out, "R..nger! Jaeger!..Pi-lot!"

Jaeger? Pilot?

His heart thudded painfully, adrenaline suddenly pumping through his system. Panic replaced all other emotion he had been feeling. Were they being attacked by another Kaiju? Raleigh needed him! Despite the burning and tearing sensation he felt, he put everything into making his limbs work. Damn all those Kaiju to hell, he wasn't about to let Raleigh down, he wasn't going to let one fucking Godzilla remake keep him down!

His arm collided with something that was flimsy, movable, thinking it to be hindering him, Yancy swung it out once more, hearing some sort of sound before the sensation of falling came over him, only briefly as the air he managed to take in was forced out as a solid surface painfully met his back.

He would have resorted to crawling, and hell if _anyone_ saw him crawling, when the freezing temperature that penetrated past his flaming skin made him focus on the senses he still could rely on. Cold was all around his, blowing in his face, soothing the raging heat inside of him, seeming to melt at contact but there was more coldness around him, it was heaven. He calmed down, hearing his whine like wheezes slow with his shallow breathing, placate.

"Are we, ah" the voice was now clearer, still dim but not fragmented, and he let his head fall towards the sound, a distraction from his pounding head, eyes closed, "good?"

Who the hell was he dealing with? Did he look _good_? He was well enough to know he wasn't doing so _swell_, least of all good. He couldn't talk even if he wanted to, at this point! Water would be _awesome_, too bad _you can't seem to take a damn hint_!

"Listen, I-I don't really know what to do" _no shit_, "you were just, well, sweating and acting weird, so, I, uh-"

He made a sound in the back of his throat, how god must hate him, instead of dying by the hands of a Kaiju, he's gonna die as a Meat-sicle.

"Sorry" A cold hand landed in his hair, and he felt strange as long, slim, fingers combing strands away from his forehead, gently probing an area of skin near his hair line. His face had gone numb, blissfully cold, but he guessed that a blow had landed on his face. "I'm horrible – with people I mean"

It was quiet for a bit, Yancy enjoying the intake of oxygen and the hands that were softly petting his hair.

"So" the voice coughed, the hands fading away, making Yancy grunt in the back of his throat; it had felt nice. "would you care for a drink?"

The groan that came out of him was well worth the next round of a coughing fit.

By the time Yancy was able to open his eyes without any pain or nausea, he had been none too ceremoniously dragged, as he later found out his (wannabe) aid had done in the beginning, into a cabin, awkwardly seated in a plastic chair, and had been sipping on lukewarm water.

He knew that he was out of his drivesuit and his wounds he knew he received had been tended to, not feeling of nearly frozen muscle – hell, he was walking and bending his arm, someone did _something_ right.

It was a bit disorienting still, but it was dim wherever he had been placed, so it helped significantly. Wood surrounded him, rotting, splintered, wood. Blinking, he turned to his left, spotting a rattling door that he supposed lead outside to the unforgiving cold, continuing his sweep to see a plane kitchen setup, with a single sink, an ancient looking microwave, and a gigantic, rusted, fridge. Cabinets were directly above the counter, their doors barely hanging by the hinges.

He glanced warily up at the low ceiling, wondering if it was going to collapse at a moment's notice.

To his right was hallway, where he assumed a bedroom and bathroom were at, looking just as crappy as the kitchen, he supposed. Where the hell did he land at? Middle of nowhere?

A not so delicate cough had his eyes slashing to his direct front, finally getting a good look at his company.

"Hello"

He almost spit out his drink in shock. The voice he had been listening to had sounded raspy, with a tilting accent on it, so much so that he thought a man had been with him. But right in front of him was a strong-jawed woman with white-blonde hair that seemed to be shaved in the back and the top hair left to chop in unruly lengths. A large section of the lengthy hair fell straight in the middle of her face, between her eyes, the top of the tough following it down to a degree, parting to hug down her face to her chin. Thick, dark brown eyebrows arched over grey eyes, accenting a small, crooked nose, like it had been broken but not set right. The rest of her was covered in layers of thick jackets, and what he could see under the edge of the table, cargo pants that covered long, bent knees.

A tall one then.

"You're eyes are blue" Back to her voice – it was devoid of the accent he heard earlier, but he knew it was the same voice; it had that raspy tint to it.

Swallowing thickly, Yancy slowly put down his drink – a quick glance told him it was in an old red ceramic cup, and that his arms were covered by a thick, worn, leather jacket. Breathing through his mouth as a test, he tried his vocal cords for what seemed like the first time in years, "wh-at?" he voice cracked.

He scowled and downed the rest of the water, gagging a bit when it irritated the back of his throat.

The woman cracked a smile, getting up to dig through the cabinets that he could now see were stocked full of a whole range of things. Now that she was up, he could gauge she was pretty tall, taller than the average American-woman height, maybe 5''8', definitely all legs.. his eyes flickered to her chest, disappointed when all the layers seemed to hinder his ability to gauge _all_ her sizes.

As soon as she turned back towards him, he quickly came to attention, eyes staying trained on her face, his giving nothing away.

"This always helps me" she said brightly, holding out a lollipop with blue wrapping paper over it.

"Who-" he cleared his throat roughly, before continuing, "who are you? And where am I?"

"Oh, well, those are good questions" she nodded to herself, sitting down once more to fiddle with her thumbs, keeping her eyes on anything but him, "well, I, uh, don't know _exactly_ where we are," she held her hands up to pacify him when his expression dropped to disbelief, "it's not like I can give you a city or anything!" her face gave way to a pink tint, lighting up her deathly pale features, "your kinda in the middle of nowhere land, in the Arctic Circle and neighbors with the North Pole, on floating ice" she made a rocking motion with her hand before thrusting it under the table in embarrassment.

The stick of the lollipop snapped as Yancy stared at her, mind coming to a halt.

The woman glanced up at him, her look scrunching up in panic at seeing his darkening mood. She seemed to look around for help, groping at her pockets before running her hand through her hair.

"Yeah, big chunk of ice" she hurried with a strained laugh, "found you on the shore – when you opened your eyes, they were black, but now they're blue. Pretty-no, not pretty" she stumbled over her words when he just continued to stare her down, "cool, yeah? No" her face heated up, "they're nice, haven't seen that eye color, have a few jackets-"

She stopped herself with a bump to the head from her hand.

"Right" she nodded, hesitantly meeting his eyes, "not good with people, that's me" she extended her hand across the small, rounded table, gloveless hands rough and scarred, "It's an honor to meet a Jaeger pilot, Sir"

Yancy grunted as pain raced up his arm as he moved stiff muscles, clasping the hand as tightly as he could; mind slowly processing the information she gave him. He and Raleigh had been close to Alaska, dropped off miles off the shore to confront Knifehead. His heart clenched at the reminder, and flashes of memories passed before his eyes, making his fists clench up painfully. Alaska… he must have drifted farther than he could have imagined… he was probably smack dab in between the Alaska Shatterdome and the Honk Kong one.

His damned luck, he groaned.

"Yancy Becket" he got out, slipping his hand away from the slender fingers that had clasped around his wide ones.

"Mo" the woman greeted, nodding… before realizing her mistake, "sorry, too much time talking to myself. My parents named me Moroz, Moroz Kaidonovsky"

Yancy wasn't even going to bother messing with that subject at that moment, even if the last name nagged at the back of his mind, along with the accent she let creep through at the foreign name, he needed to focus right now. Though, if he wanted to sound like a smart ass, he'd stick with that monk sounding name too. Mouthful how the whole thing sounded together.

"Mo" he nodded, wincing as he leaned forward and felt his back release oxygen from its joints, resounding in loud cracks, and held her grey gaze with his own blue ones, "is there anyone, anyone at all to call, that can get me off your floating fortress?"

Another strained laugh left her as her hand went back to nervously push back her hair. Breathing out, she held out her pointer finger and directed it at herself, her facial expression seemed as pained as her answer, "Population 2, you and me" she moved the finger towards him, "and I'm afraid I don't have immediate transport, Mr. Becket"

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**I'm really flattered you guys honestly are looking forward to this C: I wasn't expecting this many reviews or followers. Thank you, you don't understand how nice it felt to read and receive alerts and reviews. Sorry for the lateness, last week before college chaos.**

**On another note, I am planning to do _a lot_ of time skips, since Raleigh doesn't get back into the plot line for another five years (?). Would you like a big time skip after I get a routine down for Mo and Yancy? Give snippets into relationship developments? I do intend to reunite Yancy with Raleigh before the end of the movie.**

**And, yes, I made character connections. Might not be what you think, might be.**


	4. Chapter 3 : Defrost

**Once again, nothing belongs to me, just imagination and Mo. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, it's really heart lifting!**

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Mo wasn't so sure she wanted to go to the populated world as of late.

The guy, Yancy, made her cautious of what she should say to him. After two days of him conscious, it was a painful lesson learned.

She had been completely honest, beating around the bush a bit, and he tended to get this steely look and just freeze. Not saying anything, tensing to a degree that she thought she hadn't thawed him out right. Her father taught her to be honest, people appreciated honesty, lies built false hope… So she practiced what he preached.

"You've been out for nearly a month" resulted in her favorite cup becoming no more.

"I can't get you home for at least another year or so" ended with another cabinet door hanging by hinge, though she was glad she hadn't had a chance to continue that sentence, saying even then, she might not even be able to move them anywhere. Technically wasn't a lie, just an unfinished… statement.

Yeah.

"No one's replied to my calls through the radio in seven years" almost ended with said radio out the window, if she hadn't have tackled him away from the poor, rusty thing.

Three strikes, and you're out, she thought as she gnawed on her daily lollipop, coconut this time. Her mouth was shut now, though some nervous babbling occasionally came out, and she kept her distance from him as he focused in on himself. He figured out that most of the bulk on him were layers of shirts and jackets she found in her dad's closet and that he lost a considerably good amount of weight (she wasn't going to tell him she nearly choked him to death the past month with beans and soup). Now he has the only room, her room essentially, as his personal gym. Making the door frame a pull-up bar, rug as an exercise mat, and her poor mattress as a makeshift dummy.

She didn't know what to do really, except go back to digging. How was she supposed to act? Go in there and demand his life story? Ask him what's wrong? Because, honestly, she had an inkling of what was wrong and she was part of it, and she didn't feel like getting that icy look from him anymore.

It didn't feel right to bug him about it, they'd be here, alone, together for probably another 2 years, maybe 4 – she winced at that, she really should correct herself to him, not get his hopes up… it hurt being practical with herself, but at least she didn't disappoint herself. Though, maybe if she had an extra hand, it could go faster…

"Hey, I know you want to bash my face in for being incapable, but you wanna help dig some holes? Don't really know where I should be digging for my parent's pride and glory, but I think I got it down pat!"

Yeah - no thank you.

Mo really was a nervous wreck around this man, and if this was what the rest of the human population was like, she'd rather him express delivered without her presence. This icy prison is better than all that stress. Forget blankets.. nice warm, cozy blankets…

"Ugh!" she groaned as a shiver ran down her spine, her teeth clattering together. It'd been almost a full week now from when Yancy drifted ashore, and her calm, steady schedule was now messed up. She lost her bed to the Ranger, her favorite blankets, and bathing was now a pain!

She respected him, he fought with a Jaeger, an amazing feat and a great honor, but damn it all, right now he was human and it was _annoying_. Shouldn't they be cooled down by now? It wasn't her fault he decided to just show up out of the blue.

"It's not my fault" she told her shovel, scraping the excess snow away from the rim of her hole, sniffling, "it isn't-" she grunted as she dug the nose into the resisting snow, putting her weight into it, "my _fault_". Whipping her gloved hand across her forehead, she sighed, watching as her breath condensed before her eyes, eyes watering.

"Papa" she moaned, finally giving up for the day, having left extra early to get away from the pilot and staying longer than normal. The sun still hung in the sky, blazing, though her aching body told her it was getting later in the evening. Sliding down into her hole, she gazed down, wishing for x-ray vision to see what lay underneath, "I wish you here…"

"_a-a-at c-ame back"_

Glaring down at the rusting radio, she lightly flicked it, "not you, dork, though it is nice hearing you today" always repeating the same song, but for seven years it had been the only voice besides her own, so she never could get tired of it. And now that she did have a new voice, she didn't want to hear it.

Irony. She wasn't really used to it, or never acknowledged it before the past week the pilot had woken up. Frankly she didn't like it and she had an inkling she never would.

"Where are you?" Mo asked the ground, scrubbing at her eyes, deciding to head back. Before it seemed like an endless journey back, a mile out, now it didn't seem long enough.

Nearly four more months until the sun would disappear for a handful of months. First time she wouldn't be alone in the dark and now she felt as if it was the boogey man with her.

The front door creaked as it rattled on its hinges, a force outside opposing the rusted metal. A pause before a groan was heard and with a loud cracked and the door was forced open, dumping a freezing and frazzled young woman.

Uttering a groan she turned on her back, staring at the rotting ceiling, nose and cheeks red.

"Right then" she breathed, finding energy to jump back up despite the burn in her thighs, and hurriedly shut the door. With a short lasting shiver she tugged her cap off and ran a numb hand through the combination of wild long hair and fuzzy short hair, walking towards the lone pantry to raid it for her least favorite army dinner – dehydrated meals that needed to be popped into a microwave, meant for high calorie intake, not taste.

Already knowing the directions by heart, she popped the whole thing in the microwave and set the timer, turning to stare down the hallway where her house…_guest_ was housed. She had gotten into the habit of cooking a full one to half it with the Jaeger pilot; he had lost a lot of weight, most, if not all, was muscle, so he had to gain it back one way or another.

"Mr. Becket?" Mo called, raising on her tip toes to lean to the side, maybe to see if he was asleep through the open door – but alas, the door was sealed closed, no movement betraying anything that was going on behind the door. Waiting a heartbeat she tried again, "Mr. Becket, food!"

Nothing.

Scratching at her head she glanced between the microwave clock to the closed door. Was it rude to let him sleep through the only good meal of the day? Impolite? Would he yell at her for interrupting something?

"Hey" she called, walking forward, down the short hallway, pressing her ear to the door, "I know I'm late, but come on – it gets boring in here" knocking lightly, she waited again. The only sound was the screaming wind through the cracks of the house and her thudding heart in her ears.

Knocking louder, she tried again, "Y-Yancy?"

A shout answered her call. Agony ripping off of the person's vocal cords, amplifying the paranoia in Mo, making her heart stutter before it doubled back, pounding against her ribcage. She jumped back in fright, the heel of her boot catching on a loose board, sending her crashing into the opposite wall.

What the hell was that? Did a bear manage to bust in a window?!

Jumping up into action, Mo threw herself against the door as she turned the knob, the momentum propelling her towards her intended location – the lousy bed right across from the door. It stumped her though, that it was just Yancy in the bed, struggling with the thick comforters strewn across him and the floor. No fury mess of fangs and claws ripping out his innards.

"Mr. Becket?" she called out, staring inpolitely. Her chest heaved as her breathing went back to normal. Waiting, all she received was a groan as his body flopped, terribly near the edge of the bed. Jumping once on her feet, she looked around her, as she always did as a child expecting her parents to barge in and catch her in the act. Her mother always knew when she was about to do something stupid. When it was still just Yancy and her, she approached the bed, _her_ bed, and tentavely poked the ranger's shoulder, watching for a reaction.

"I'm really starting to dislike your name" Mo mused, seriously, she only called out three names in her entire lifetime, when she only received a jerk of the arm from his nightmare, not from her. Sighing, she rolled her shoulders and bent down, bracing her hands on the man's side as well as her feet on the ground, before starting to shove. At first he didn't move, which surprised her, she'd dragged his sorry ass all the way out of the shack weeks before, and now it was hard to just – push. Grunting softly, she took a deep breath before pushing with her knees, as if she was using a running force, and was rewarded when his body gave in and turned over on the bed.

When he finally rolled over, flopping on his stomach with his head in an awkward angle.

"Well, then" Mo huffed, jumping back when his leg kicked out with another moan, "_byt' ostorozhnym!_" [be careful]. Grumbling, she tapped his shoulder again, "Mr. Becket, wake up!"

"_Raleigh…_"

Blinking, Mo leaned in a bit more, confused.

"_Raleigh… listen to me..." _his breath left him and his body started shaking, almost vibrating in a constant shiver, fist clenching. Mo's hands twitched, wanting to hear what he was saying, yet knowing she should wake him up, take him away from his living nightmare.

"Be good" Mo told herself, throwing her hand forward before she could think different, and shook the man's arm, a bit shocked at the compact density of it. Was it healthy to build that much muscle in such a short amount of time and maintain it? Shaking a bit more forcefully, Mo bit her lip. He had probably exhausted himself and wouldn't wake up for anything. Well…

Looking into his brother's eyes, despair gripped him. He was stuck in a cycle of the events of his last drop, connected to his brother as he realized what was happening, what was going to happen, and that he couldn't do a damned thing to stop it. His kid brother, boisterous, feeling on top of the world. Sure, he'd made sure to peg him down a few times, but during their neural drift, it was what he needed. Raleigh gave Gipsy her light foot and eagerness to jump into battle, not giving the Kaiju a chance to take the first hit.

"Raleigh…" his mouth moved on its own and grief took over, he knew what was going to happen next. He tried to clench his eyes closed, he couldn't see the helplessness in his brother's face again, but he couldn't do anything, the sounds of the Kaiju breathing in the connpod came upon them. His heart stuttered, fear coming in, "Raleigh, Listen-" his mouth screamed out as he was pulled from his position frame by frame, sea air and screeches open to him.

"_Wake up!_"

His world froze, water suspended in the air before his face. His breath huffed out, sweat pouring off his forehead, trying to figure out what just occurred. His arm shivered, as if now just getting feeling back, and suddenly he felt cold, instead of the constant warmth the drive-suits gave off.

"_Yancy_!"

It was feminine, that accent back, and it made him remember. He wasn't on the Alaska cost being killed in front of his brother , he was stuck on a floating icicle with a reclusive, one-manned team, woman who had no good news to offer. The scene around his dissolved into nothing as reality came back and he was suddenly blinking down into the stale pillow he had laid down upon.

Yancy's mouth was dry as he tried to swallow, eyes thick and strained with the pounding behind them. That dream – no, memory – haunted him. It wouldn't leave him alone, and all he could do about it was stay awake and stay involved in something to keep the thoughts at bay. It was difficult, not having much to do, or look forward to, besides build his body back up to jaeger standards. He'd hoped for just a blackout sort of sleep, remembering nothing as he woke up, but he wasn't that lucky he supposed.

"...Evening, Mr. Becket" a hesitant voice sounded behind him, making him aware that he really wasn't alone and that someone, who was he kidding, there was only _one_ someone in this god forsaken place, had been trying to wake him up. Turning around, he sadly confirmed it was Mo standing a bit away from the bed, thumbs in her layered jean pockets and rocking back on her heels. Her face was flushed and her nose running more than usual from the cold outside, the longer lengths of hair in the front frazzled and wind blown. She wouldn't meet his eyes, and his stomach dropped as he realized he must have been in enough of a mess for her to actually come in a three foot radius of him.

Guilt crept up on him. He wasn't intentionally trying to be snippy towards her, it was just he didn't like the answers she gave him; albeit being the honest truth. As a Ranger he was always ready to jump up into battle at a moment's notice, always having something needing worked on or reviewed. Here; nothing. White snow, cold weather, and only a broken radio for entertainment.

"Well" Mo started, bringing his attention back to the blond as she stepped back further, "I just wanted to inform you that food's ready…" she hesitated a bit, "I-I already ate, so I'll just hop on up to bed"

Yancy stared, not really knowing what to say. He'd thanked her the past two weeks for food, but now it just seemed like a routine and he knew she knew what he was going to say.

"Yeah…" she scratched the back of her head, "sorry to have bothered you, Mr. Becket, goodnight" she turned on her heel and hurried out of the room, her boots echoing off the wood floor.

Groaning at the predicament, Yancy pulled his hand through his already nappy hair that had grown out, as well as his facial hair that he _really_ wanted to rip off about now. He likes his face cleanly shaven, not a fuzzy mess sticking out of his skin. Taking a deep breath, he called out.

"Mo – wait!"

The footsteps stopped and slowly they headed back towards him, and a bit later Mo stood at the doorway, not going inside this time around, looking at him expectantly. Her body language was tense, and from past experience between their conversations, he knew she was expecting to have to answer a difficult question from him, and inevitably piss him off.

"Look, this…" he waved his hand a bit, around him to the situation they both were in, "I don't mean to give you a hard time, I-" he swallowed again, "you don't ask much… which is a relief" he wasn't sure if he'd had been able to, it probably would have set him off, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he'd ever lay a hand on a lady. "But you have to understand…

I was separated from my brother mid-flight, battling for our lives and others'…I just – I need to get back to the Alaska Shatterdome, to make sure he's safe.. My brother is all I have left. I need to get off this shithole"

He watched as her face scrunched up, a frantic yet hard look in her eyes as her hands groped her pockets, looking for something to squeeze in response to stress.

Raleigh's face flashed across his vision, of a young, cocky twenty-one year old, the exact opposite of the person in front of him. It came to Yancy that maybe he was a bit grateful she didn't remind him of Raleigh, that _he_ would be the one avoiding her instead of the other way around. At least he has a plausible reasoning for the way he'd been acting.

"You have to understand" Mo demanded softly, her lips thinning out as she finally met his blue eyes with her own grey, straightening, "this has been my home my entire life" she ignored the way he gaped at her, his jaw coming down a bit in how crazy that sounded, "this… _shithole_ is all I know" she spat out his own words, her lips twisting down, "it's going to take some time, but we'll get out of here-"

"I don't want you-" Yancy started, not really wanting to get into sentiments or having to bring up how long 'getting out of here' was going to take.

"I've been trying to do it for the last seven years, Mr. Becket" Mo assured, shoving her hands all the way into her pockets, looking down as her bravado wore off, her temper short lived , "I've already made up my mind, it just takes _time_, and I'm sorry you aren't…happy with it"

"I'm not patient" Yancy bit back a smirk, out how understated that was, like how he wasn't a morning person, "but it's better that you're being straight up with me, woulda' bitten you in the butt later if you'd given me fluff" he smiled when he saw her lip soften and lift upwards, relief showing, "thank you for that, I don't show it much, but I am thankful for honesty"

Mo nodded, her arms relaxing, "It's nice to hear that" her lips twitched up a bit more, as if from a silent joke, "…I'll, uh, take my leave then – but thank you" her face flushed a bit, her hand nearly slapping her face as it shot up to wipe the fluid that was coming out of her nose, "sorry, that's embarrassing, really-" she stopped, and Yancy realized that this was about the time when she'd start rambling off her stress and awkwardness. He wouldn't admit it to her, but even if he didn't listen to the ramblings when he was frustrated with her answers, it was nice to hear a voice other than his, he would have gone crazy in the silence…. Raleigh had always been the talker; Yancy wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to bear the silence after having that for 21 years of his life since his baby brother was born.

"Food, right" Mo nodded to herself, getting back to the original subject, "foods ready whenever you are"

"Mo" he called without realizing it came out of his mouth, watching as she paused and turned back to him, waiting, "how are you getting us out of here if there isn't any communication?"

Mo blinked before a wide smile nearly split her face, "we never got to that, did we?"

"That was probably my fault" Yancy allowed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he swung around on bed to place his feed on the cold wood, stretching.

"I'm not sure if I'd be able to get you to stay inside if I told you right now" she stated honestly, shrugging her shoulders, "…and well, I need sleep… so, tomorrow, come out with me" she nodded, as if to reassure herself, "I'll scrounge up some of my dad's old gear to give you, and I'll fill you in on our…" she fished for the word, looking to the ceiling with squinted eyes before they came back to him, brighter, "our escape plan"

He wanted to know _now_, wanted to remind her of what he just told her about his patience, but remembered something she'd showed him. Her honest answers and if she was tired she wouldn't be much to get information out of her, or get her in a better mood around him like she was now.

"Yeah, tomorrow" he agreed, already anxious.

"Good" she turned back again to leave, "night, Mr. Becket"

"Yancy" he corrected for the first time, just realizing how tiring that sounds. Only reporters and the Marshal ever called him that and it ate at his nerves, "you can call me Yancy, Mo"

"Yancy" she corrected, smiling a bit more as she patted the door frame, "get some better sleep"

* * *

**_Not really the way I wanted it to go, but it will go more smooth into the next chapter. Hope you enjoyed, please review to let me know your thoughts! Really, you guys are my own Gipsy Danger's Nuclear Reacter (otherwise known to me as, the bomb... not a good joke, hu?). _**


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